


A Breath of Cold Air

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e01 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: John's keeping a secret, but this one might actually be benign
Relationships: Jack Harkness/John Hart
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	A Breath of Cold Air

Jack watched the CCTV with a frown as John snuck out of his flat for the third time that week, bag slung over his shoulder. It was just the same as the other nights; John would disappear for a few hours, then return with no hint as to what he had been doing. 

At first, Jack thought it was for sex. Nothing to worry about there; John was a bastard, but he did understand consent. It took him a bit to realize that John had a completely different pattern the nights he was on the pull. No, this was something else. He just hoped it wasn’t something he was going to have to punish him for - and not in the fun way. John’s position with Torchwood was probationary, and Jack was very serious when it came to protecting his team from any threat. Even John.

Two nights later, Jack got his opportunity. John had left his jacket on a chair the day before, and Jack had taken the liberty of slipping a tracker into the lining. He’d certainly find it, but Jack had a good day or two before that happened. And that was all he needed.

Jack sat in the SUV around the corner from John’s flat. He couldn’t see the building, but he didn’t need to when his PDA displayed the little red blip marking his former partner. The blip started to move, car-speed, and after a few moments, Jack followed.

John’s final destination left Jack stunned. He’d expected a shady and kinky back-alley, not this. What the fuck was John doing at an ice arena? 

He watched from across the car park as John made his way up to a person standing at the door. There was a moment or two of conversation, then John slipped them something. They let John in the building, then headed for their own car. Jack waited for them to leave, ducking down as they drove past, then got out of the SUV.

Jack dashed across the parking lot to find that the door was locked. Great. But not unexpected. The lock was electronic, so he was able to use his bracer to unlock it. A little high-tech for a temporary ice arena, but he didn’t mind the anachronism, not when it helped him out.

Inside was cold, obviously, and he was grateful for his coat. He moved slowly and quietly, not wanting to attract John’s attention before he was good and ready. He couldn’t hear any people, just a faint scraping noise from up ahead. Jack felt a pall of unease settle over him, and one hand drifted to the Webley at his side.

He rounded a corner and caught sight of the rink for the first time. His attention was instantly drawn to the single figure on the ice, spinning, one leg stretched out at a ninety-degree angle, hands clasped behind their back. They finished the spin with a flourish, freezing, hand splayed in the air. 

Two, three seconds passed before they moved again, drifting in seemingly aimless circles, before picking up speed, blades scraping against the ice. Jack’s eyes went wide as they jumped, spinning twice before landing, limbs outstretched in an elegant show of balance.

“What?” Jack murmured under his breath, slowly moving down the steps. They made another jump, two rotations again, but a different style. They moved so freely, as if invisible wings carried them across the ice rather than muscle and metal. They didn’t seem to notice him approaching as they skated in lazy backward circles. But now that he was closer…

Jack grinned and laid a hand on the red jacket draped over a seat. “Hiya, John!” he called, loud enough to startle. And startle he did. John let out a yelp and tried to twist around toward him. Bad plan, as he lost his balance and fell. Jack winced as he hit the ice hard. 

“What the hell?” John shouted from the ground. “What’s wrong with you?” Jack offered a sheepish smile as he carefully got to his feet, wincing and rubbing at his leg. “Do you have any common sense or did Eye Candy suck it all out your dick?” Oh, he was _mad_. Whoops.

“Leave Ianto out of this,” Jack warned, voice as cold as the ice. John scoffed and skated slowly toward him. He looked irritatingly hot, his shirt form-fitting and his bare arms showing off lean muscle. Everything he wore was black from his skates to his gloves. He’d always looked good in black, damn him.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” he asked, stopping a safe distance away, hands on his hips. Jack hesitated, and he smirked. “Are you stalking me? Because I’m not sure if I should be honored or offended.”

“You’re getting sloppy,” Jack teased. “You didn’t even notice the tracker.” John clucked his tongue and reached into a near-to-invisible pocket of the very tight leggings he was wearing.

“You mean this tracker?” He held it up, and Jack blinked in surprise. “I found it as soon as I put my jacket back on.” He grinned. “You’re good, but I’m better.”

“You didn’t get rid of it?” Jack asked. John shrugged and tossed it at him. Jack caught it as John skated away.

“I’m supposed to be playing nice, aren’t I?” he called, drifting down the rink. “Figured it was a test.” Jack watched him glide and then jump, rotating just the once before landing with a slight wobble. He skated back over to Jack, grinning, but Jack could tell he was favoring his left leg. Jack frowned; he hadn’t meant to hurt John, just tease him a bit.

“This is you playing nice? Breaking into an ice rink?” Jack said

“I didn’t break in,” John clarified. “I’ve got an arrangement with one of the workers. Private rink time any night I want it.” Jack crossed his arms, although internally, he was relieved. This was the sort of secret he could deal with. And it explained the handoff.

“So, bribery. Still a crime,” Jack admonished.

“You can’t expect me to be a saint, Jack.” John skated up to him, all the way to the edge this time. “No one gets hurt. Except for me when _someone_ decides to be annoying.” Jack laughed awkwardly.

“Sorry.” John rolled his eyes and shrugged. He reached out and grabbed a pair of what looked like plastic casings from beside the rink. 

“I’m gonna pack up and ice this leg before I fuck it up even more,” John said, sliding the plastic onto the blades of his skates. He stepped off the ice and grinned. “Can’t be limping while I’m chasing after Weevils, now can I?”

“No, you can’t,” Jack agreed slowly. He watched as John sat and started to unlace his skates with practiced ease. Too practiced. “How long have you-” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the question.

“All my life, seems like,” John said, not looking at Jack. “When your world’s covered in ice, you either freeze or you adapt.” Jack frowned, as John removed the coverings and started to dry the blades with a towel. “It’s nothing special. When everyone’s capable, only the perfect shine.” He took a breath, then spat out the next words quick and quiet. “And I’m the furthest thing from perfect.” Jack frowned but didn’t comment. He wasn’t wrong after all.

“How did I never notice?” John looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “We used to be two halves of the same whole. How could I miss such a big part of you?” John laughed, setting his skates on the seat next to him.

“It’s not a big part of me. It’s an old habit and a good workout.” He looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “And I had effectively retired from it when we were together. The Agency didn’t need pretty boys on ice; it needed pretty boys with guns.” 

“So, why now?” he asked as John pulled his boots out of his bag. “Why get back on the ice?”

“Why all the questions?” John retorted, voice toeing the line between teasing and annoyed. Jack hesitated, but then John sighed, eyes focused on the laces and buckles of his boots. “When I was… working on my own, I realized that I missed it. I don’t know if I actually missed the sport or if it was just bloody nostalgia, but it was enough.” He huffed. “So now I sneak out in the middle of the night to jump and spin and apparently spill all my inner feelings to _you_.” Jack smiled softly.

“Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have minded.” John froze, fingers halfway through the final knot. There was a moment or two of silence, and then he finished the knot roughly. He pulled his jacket onto his shoulders, jaw clenched, eyes staring out at the ice.

“Once upon a time, you loved me back.” Jack’s mouth gaped like a fish, but John wasn’t looking. He pulled what looked like thick socks out of his bag and slipped them over the blades of his skates. The skates got roughly but not recklessly stowed away, and he stood, bag slung over his shoulder. 

“If you want to stop me, I’m sure you can,” John said, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “You’re the all-powerful Captain Harkness. But right now, I just don’t care. I just want an ice bath and some sleep.” He glanced at Jack and grinned, sharp and false. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder and left, the heels of his boots clicking unevenly as he limped up the stairs. 

Jack watched him go, almost glad John hadn’t let him respond. He wasn’t sure what he would have said. But he wasn’t going to stop John. He couldn’t give him what he wanted, but he could give him this. A poor substitute perhaps, but all he could offer. Besides, now he had blackmail material for the next time John decided to play the petulant bitch. Jack grinned and made his own exit.


End file.
